Old Piano Book
Now yellowed with age
a lonely music book,
hidden in every page
old musician dreams
of endless nights passed
struggling with melodies,
lovely trills and arpeggios,
etudes and symphonies;
a sentry keeping watch
over dirtied ivory keys
played and loved once
by souls of olden days;
labors of faceless men
held close to its breast,
strains still remembered
kept deep in the chest;
an old piano book stands
now sullied by the years,
within its torn pages live
dead musician tears.
Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment